


Holidating

by aftersoon (notboldly)



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Closeted, Established Relationship, Fluff, Holidays, Jealousy, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-23
Updated: 2013-12-23
Packaged: 2018-01-05 07:56:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1091475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notboldly/pseuds/aftersoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stark's ideas were usually bad, and Phil wasn't very surprised to find that his parties were the same. (Or, where Tony throws a very lavish Christmas party, Steve is everyone's favorite party favor, and Phil is extremely jealous.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Holidating

**Author's Note:**

  * For [iammine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/iammine/gifts).



> Beta'd by [miss_makiba](http://miss-makiba.livejournal.com/)! Thank you so much for your help!
> 
> This story is sort of a spiritual sequel to _Dating Blind_. Also, I really like ending stories with kisses.

While it wasn't strictly accurate to say that the evening had started off badly, it would have been a lie to say Phil hadn't seen the smoke on the horizon. Between Stark's boisterous greeting and the conspicuous gurgle of a champagne fountain, Phil'd had his doubts about letting himself be swayed into coming, and the sight of _hundreds_ of wealthy party guests only reinforced the thought: he should've stayed home. 

Pepper looked at him apologetically, perhaps because she was the one who'd described the party as "a small gathering of friends" last Tuesday. He couldn't fault her entirely, however, as she was dressed much like him, in work clothes with a near-invisible stain of mustard on one dark sleeve. She looked just as frazzled as he did, too, perhaps because—like with every Tony Stark idea—things had quickly gotten out of hand.

"I'm sorry, Phil," she said once Stark had disappeared to greet whichever millionaire had come in after him. "It really was supposed to just be the Avengers and a few others. But you know Tony."

"I know Tony," Phil agreed, and he smiled faintly in what he hoped was a reassuring way. That was another reason he couldn't really blame anyone: with an attraction like the Avengers, no party was ever small…and considering he himself was here to see one Avenger in particular, it wasn't like he didn't understand the appeal.

As if summoned by the thought, the Avengers—at least those inclined—suddenly made themselves visible. Banner was conspicuously absent (not that Phil was surprised) but the rest were festively dressed, Clint and Natasha a tentatively matching pair while Thor had seemingly taken to the more mythical elements with vigor. A Santa hat was squashed firmly over his blond hair, matching the fur-trimmed red suit he wore, and Phil couldn't help but think he looked like Santa would if Santa was in a Playgirl magazine. 

It was entertaining in a small way, and Phil was still smiling when he turned slightly, just enough to catch sight of Steve, smiling and waving while dressed in black and red. Phil's mouth went dry, and he blamed Stark, before he very determinedly didn't blame Stark for anything.

Even though he knew it was tempting fate, Phil couldn't help but think that maybe the party wouldn't be so bad after all.

**** 

Three hours later, the party was surprisingly not on the brink of catastrophe. If Phil was being honest and if he ignored the more gaudy decorations, the entire affair was—by Tony Stark standards—quite subdued and tasteful. The food and drinks were both excellent, and the music was live, something soft and classical that was no doubt Pepper's doing. When Phil found an out of the way spot on one of the courtesy couches, waiters still occasionally passed him and refilled his glass, and he had enough of a view to see that things were going amazingly well, with no explosions, known terrorists, or dropped hors d'oeuvres in sight.

There was only one problem, and that was that everything was going so smoothly that Phil hadn't spoken to Steve since their initial hello. This was not to say that he hadn't _seen_ Steve—it was hard to miss his tall form, especially in clothes that looked more like Stark's taste than his—but it had taken only a few minutes for Phil to realize seeing was all he'd be doing. If Phil'd planned to get closer than ten feet to the man, he had stiff competition in the form of an ever-adoring crowd, and, short of shooting someone or a sudden international incident that needed immediate Avengers attention, that wasn't likely to change.

Phil was fine with it. Mostly. He wasn't a party type at the best of times, and he was more than content to sit by himself on the fringes of the crowd, drinking eggnog and eyeing the perimeter suspiciously. Mostly.

Around the fifth time someone blatantly hit on Steve, Phil was starting to revise his opinion on the matter. Phil had a full view of the spectacle from across the room, situated as he was out of the crowd and with his eyes automatically finding Steve's red shirt even when he was trying to look elsewhere. Steve wasn't a fan of parties either—they'd discussed this at length, in fact—but he made visible attempts at being charming and good-natured, and they were very effective. People edged in close to him, smiled openly while they listened, and then they laid their hands on his arms under the guise of adding emphasis. Phil hadn't felt the clearly satiny feel of Steve's shirt, but they did, touches lingering far too long on the fabric covering his skin and looking at him with adoring eyes. It wasn't how everyone behaved, but it happened enough for Phil to feel something like burning in his gut every time he looked up. 

_Well, this is stupid._ He didn't even have the excuse of alcohol spurring his jealousy because he'd drank none, it was just him and his insecurities and his stubbornness. 

The worst part was that it had been his idea not to tell anyone. To keep _them_ , whatever they were, a secret. Phil had had his reasons at the time, the same reasons he'd had every time it came up, but as logical as they seemed, they never stopped the faintly hurt look on Steve's face. It was that look that Phil remembered now, and it was that look that he held in his mind when he glanced back to where Steve had been all evening and found him gone.

The burning intensified, and Phil's fingers tightened on the arm of the couch. He quickly drained his eggnog, but it did nothing to settle his stomach or his nerves.

When the couch dipped beside him and Steve was there, Phil hated himself for how surprised he felt. Even if they'd never laid out the details of this _thing_ they had, Steve took it seriously, and had since their very first date. Even now Steve smiled at him with open affection, although the expression began to fade as they sat in silence. 

Phil wasn't sure what expression he had on his face, but it couldn't have been good.

"Phil? Are you okay?"

Phil nodded, smiling at Steve's concern and at the warm hand that came to rest on his shoulder. "I'm fine. Too much eggnog." Not even alcoholic eggnog, Phil reminded himself, just eggnog. His stomach rumbled with discontent the more he thought about it.

Steve didn't look convinced.

"Are you sure? I know Tony's parties can be a bit much." He smiled, warm and sincere. "I am glad you're here, though." Steve's hand left his shoulder with a final squeeze, and Phil grasped it on impulse before he could finish pulling away.

With deliberate slowness, Phil laced their fingers together, and the expression on Steve's face—surprise, delight, uncertainty—made Phil feel both low and elated at once.

"Are you sure?" Steve asked again, and Phil nodded, the tension in his spine disappearing a little more the longer they remained that way. It was nice. Honest. Open. Completely innocent, because they'd both agreed to take it slow.

It was also a little painful in a lot of ways, and Phil, on impulse, leaned forward for another of the chaste kisses they'd shared over the past few months. Steve didn't taste at all like eggnog, and when Phil deepened the kiss, he hummed in approval and raked his fingers through Phil's short hair.

Phil shuddered, pulled back slightly, and saw Steve looking very interested and not at all alarmed. Steve smiled, the expression unusually sharp, and he didn't remove his hand or shift away. Phil's fingers twitched against his red shirt, and found it as warm and smooth as he'd imagined.

"For Christ's sake, Phil, I was in the army," Steve said, sounding almost exasperated. "I don't scare easy. And I don't need slow."

There was a lot Phil could've said to that, he was sure, but he said none of it.

Instead, he went back for another kiss, and stayed there for a long while.

****

End


End file.
